Fen'Harel Enansal
by FadeKiss
Summary: Solas x Lavellan. This is the story of Enansal/Esviya Lavellan, as told through different perspectives within the Inquisition- and how her choices and personality led her to her romance with Solas.
1. Prologue

Fen'Harel Enansal

by FadeKiss

A/N: ** MASSIVE, MASSIVE SPOILERS! THIS STORY DETAILS MY COMPLETE PLAYTHROUGH OF DRAGON AGE INQUISITION!**

This is the story of my Lavellan, Enansal/Esviya, as told through different perspectives within the Inquisition- and how her choices and personality led her to her romance with Solas. Solas x Lavellan.

This is a story about my play through of the game/romance- the way I roleplayed my Inquisitor, my guesses about what happened and my speculations that may tie things together better. But I, of course, know nothing about the truth, and do not wish to spoil what was already written for the game. Dragon Age Inquisition, (and the characters used in this piece) is owned by BioWare (except for the story that Solas tells to Lavellan in Chapter 7- that is mine). Much 3 to my best friend, Mew, for helping me to edit this story!

_Prologue_

Lies by Omission

I am old. These eyes have seen a great many things. This tongue has directed many travelers toward - and away from - power. I have seen the tide of power shift many, many times. Most times, those who seek power ultimately seek the ability to condemn; to solve and shut away their problems by force. They earn that power through deception, manipulations of the tongue and body.

It takes a rare wisdom of the heart and spirit to seek power to correct mistakes through acts of humility and service, rather than make them disappear by force. There is no word for 'forgiveness' in the Elven language. It is quite telling. Instead, the wounded party is addressed with a phrase along the lines of '_Ir abelas', _'My sorrow', referring to regret surrounding the actions or words that have been carried out to wound them. Instead of relinquishing them of blame through forgiveness, the elves pass sorrow and pain to and from each other, cutting themselves down through shared anguish and shame. It is ingrained in the culture. Of all the forms of slavery that exist, the inability to express forgiveness is truly the cruelest.

Pain is a primal evolutionary trait, an ancient concept meant to guide all those who can feel, away from actions that may further harm them in the end. A shield from (unnecessary) suffering, if you will. Personal pain, the consequences of our immediate actions, helps us to grow effectively. If allowed time to reflect and feel remorse, the pain will subside and the damaged tissue will repair itself. It is also meant to serve as a stark differentiation from pleasure.

But it seems a popular notion in all cultures: create and subdue your enemies through the abuse of their pain—by making them aware of their mistakes, and not forgiving. Twist their pain and remorse to your own end, to further your agenda. Pain is a currency, in it's own way, as those who master the pain of others have the ability to control them, to offer a false means of removing that pain, hope of relief and forgiveness.

Everyone errs. It is woven into the fabric of life. Holding pain over a person, instead of letting them redeem themselves, giving mercy and forgiveness, creates resentment and shame. It is only natural to want to avoid being shamed. And so lies are created to bridge the gap formed by the actions that caused this pain. This leads to pride, to recklessness, which in turn creates more pain. The cycle is perpetual, and not easily broken.

There is another kind of lie, however, a more sinister form of deception, which is not often addressed and often overlooked. That is the art of half- truths, lies by omission. A deft tongue can excuse itself from any situation with enough incriminating detail removed.

It leaves a painless mark on their victim, excuses them from dealing pain, making the wrong-doing unrecognizable. It leaves the foundation of any actions based in truth on unsteady ground. Scars, though ugly and marring to some, are reminders, visual cues. They are meant to prevent that same kind of wound from occurring in the future.

But I am assuming your ignorance. I apologize. I am speaking mostly from a place of regret because of my nature. I do not mean to lecture. This is the first time I have expressed this pain outside of myself. Given my speech, I'm sure you can understand why…

I still do not completely understand my circumstances, and am struggling to do so. For the moment, all I truly know is that my recklessness endangered the world needlessly. I am a fool, and I hurt many I cared for…

Enansal

I am called Enansal. In clan Lavellan I serve as first to the Keeper, the leader of the Dalish Elves in the Free Marches of Thedas.

In my language, my name refers to a 'gift' or a 'blessing'. A cliché, I am sure—especially if it were to next be told that I managed to pull the world from the brink of utter chaos. Many who have children consider them a blessing in their lives. Thus, I do not equate my name or it's meaning in any way with divinity; nor do I equate my actions with an invisible, guiding hand. Though those who would tell my story might do so in my stead— for dramatic effect, I would guess.

My clan had an unusually close relationship with humans, though mostly, our dealings were through trade. While I've experienced intolerance of my people, I have tried very hard not to let this particular ignorance turn me hateful. Retaliating is a poor strategy, as it often leads to an exchange of defensive strikes that, in the end, wound everyone and solve nothing.

That much could be seen in the conflict that raged between the mages and Templars. Open war broke out about a year earlier, prompted by an act of rebellion by a fanatical mage, who was driven mad by the Chantry's oppression of magic users.

Word of the terror he caused spread like wildfire, and opened up a window for their retaliation. Their war was ravaging Thedas. It was a source of great worry, and even greater sorrow for those who witnessed it. As a user of magic, myself, I was very wary of the movements of these two groups. I kept my guard up, and my usage of my talents to a minimum.

Just when it seemed that the fighting was at it's worst, an olive branch was extended to both sides by the very organization that had set the stage for conflict in the first place. Much of the talk about this upcoming gathering seemed to hold a cynical edge. Some called the Chantry 'hypocritical', or worse.

But when the news got to me, I wondered if perhaps the Chantry was finally attempting to right a very grievous wrong they had perpetrated long ago. Personally, I was almost hopeful. My close friend, Aeony, and I discussed finding a way to attend the Conclave as members of the congregation.

My keeper was sensitive to the tides of this conflict. Before Aeony and I could make plans, she tasked me with attending the conclave as a spy and informant to the Lavellan Clan, alone. A high honor, indeed. Very rarely does she find it necessary to involve herself in human affairs. I refrain from using the diminutive insult, popular in my tongue, '_shemlen'._ Disparaging all humans condemns those who seek to carry out good to the same fate as those who wish to impart madness. I know there are shades of grey, in all races and cultures.

I wish more people were of the same mind.

But in a setting like Thedas, where the majority of its inhabitants hold some connection to a Maker, a creator… it is nearly impossible to find that kind of acceptance. Much of the dogma surrounds the existence of the Fade, an invisible magical barrier that separates the world from the land of Dreams. The Fade is home to spirits, and dreamers, and demons. It is as fascinating as it is treacherous.

I am sensitive to both—the Elvhen Pantheon, and the Maker. I am still not quite sure why. I would have thought that growing up in a Dalish clan would have precluded all interest or knowledge in Andrastian religion. Many Dalish are introverted, stubborn, prideful even. But my wandering mind felt it wrong to not explore other beliefs. In most cases, I would prefer not to be asked about my beliefs. There is a sense of betrayal on both sides, no matter what I believe, both within or out loud. And the whole concept of religion- it's entire purpose, is to deem those beliefs 'good' or 'bad'. Really it's just shorthand for 'who is the most easily hated?' or 'who is the most inferior?'

In all honesty, I hold neither so sacred. History, culture, and lore surrounding these beliefs are much more important to me. For everything that is written on the ancients, all the apocryphal tales that have circulated throughout the ages, there must be some truth behind them which led to their present day survival. Granted, every fact casts a different shadow depending on the angle of the light, causing reflections like a many-faceted gem. There is not unanimous agreement on any front, even among the most stringent and devout believers. Stories are told and retold with details added or missing, to fit the context of their telling. The additional notion of the Fade adds a dimension of murkiness and confusion to an already uncertain past, and leaves plenty of room for interpretation, and scapegoating.

I expect my story to be treated no differently in the years to come.


	2. Ena'las, Isala Vir

_1._ _Ena'las, Isala Vir…_

(Emerging from the dirt,

in need of a path)

_As told by Enansal:_

I have recounted the beginning endless times in my mind. There are still many, many blurred images that I have yet to decipher. But I will try to piece together what I have.

I remember nothing from inside the Conclave. I remember not what I wore, who I spoke with, where I hid. I only remember catching a glimpse of Divine Justinia. I knew my name, Enansal, might be coming on a bit strong, especially amongst a gathering of the Chantry. And so I chose another, Esviya.

And then, an explosion rocked the Conclave. Everything went black. I felt things shifting around me, but could not see anything. I finally came to, and found a strange glowing mark on my hand. The smoke, and the echo of the massive blast… I was conscious only a moment, before things went black again.

I awoke in a dungeon in manacles. I sat in disbelief, watching with bewilderment as the mark shifted in my hand. It didn't feel like anything was there. Soldiers entered, and I was interrogated. I was led outside by a Seeker named Cassandra. She showed me the eerie, menacing hole that raged in the sky. She explained everyone who attended the conclave was dead, and that some theorized that the mark on my hand held the power to heal the heavens. There were many smaller breaches that needed to be closed. She pleaded for my help.

I could tell she was still suspicious of me, and that made my voice waver. I did not want to condemn myself, but I was unsure of what had happened. I asked few questions, fearful that I would be her prisoner forever if I did not hear the other side of the story. She answered my questions more calmly that I had imagined, as though she wanted to know that I was informed as best as possible. I told her that I understood, and that I would assist her. Neither her disbelief nor her gratitude could have been more apparent.

She led me through the valley, explaining what others had witnessed, and how the people needed someone to blame for the tragic loss of life, and the danger that now threatened the world.

Every once in a while, the Breach would give off a massive pulse and cripple me with pain. She warned me that if I lingered, the unstable mark might very well kill me.

We were attacked by demons on the path, and I found a staff. I only joined the fight because I knew that Cassandra needed help fending off the demons. When she told me to drop my weapon, I complied... and that made her reconsider. She allowed me to keep it, and shared some health poultices with me. Was she beginning to trust me?

She got me to the smaller rift, where others were fighting demons. The rift looked like a cluster of shifting green crystals, hovering above the sky. And it was spewing demons.

As the last of the demons was defeated, an elf fighting at our side took my hand and pointed it at the rift. And the power that streamed from my hand shattered the crystal cluster.


	3. Stability

2\. Stability

_As told by Solas:_

She was remarkable, and a very welcomed sight. After she closed the smaller rift with the mark, it seemed clear that my hypothesis had been correct. It was a relief to know that there was some way back from this seemingly impossible mess...

Varric and I introduced ourselves. We were able to come up for a breath. It was interesting to see that the Dalish girl didn't notice that we all seemed to know each other to some degree, from beforehand.

She introduced herself in return. Her name, she said, was Esviya. She was quite beautiful. Her mahogany hair was up in a neat, elaborate ceremonial braid; her features pointed, but also very soft. Her eyes were the color of freshwater pools- a gorgeous shade of blue-green. Her face was marked with a vivid purple vallaslin that ran down her cheeks, chin and neck.

I noticed she carried a staff, and that brought me a strange comfort. Since we were both technically apostates, it meant that I was safe for the time being. If Cassandra would keep her around, she would also have to keep me. And since I had proved my hypothesis on the rifts to be correct, we were both somewhat invaluable to Cassandra's efforts.

The four of us made our way down the mountain face toward the forward camp. We encountered more demons. She would mostly use standard magic. Only every once in a while would she use an elemental spell. And she'd position herself so that she was both in range of my protective magical barrier, and close enough to the fighting to help Cassandra, who was fighting directly with sword and shield.

I asked her about being Dalish. She tried to be respectful, but ended up coming off condescending. I guess it was understandable, as we had just been acquainted.

Varric asked if she was innocent. Not in an accusing tone; more out of curiosity. And she said she wasn't sure- that she didn't remember what happened. Oh, the poor soul thought what happened _could have been_ her fault. Probably related to her Dalish upbringing...

There was another rift at the entrance to the forward camp. She seemed to know what to do. And we gained another moment to breathe.

We made our way across the bridge to check in with Leliana. She was with a Chantry Brother, who she introduced as Chancellor Roderick. I could tell he was fearful, but he was insistent that Esviya, a prisoner of the Chantry, be prepared to be sent to Val Royeaux for execution.

I listened as Cassandra and Leliana stood up for Esviya, even as they weren't sure who she was or her degree of involvement. Esviya also spoke up for herself, attempting to remind the Chantry Brother that the Breach was the most pressing issue. I'm sure she found it just as frustrating as I, that he would rather bicker about justice, than address the real issue that was staring everyone down. Humans, from my experience, have very limited insight, most likely stemming from impulse, though I have met a few exceptions. Roderick seemed to be standing on his own, and quickly surrendered his authority to us.

It was mentioned that there were two ways to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, where the main Breach had originated. Seeing that it was the prisoner's safety that was most vital, we deferred to her judgment.

We chose to not throw ourselves into direct conflict, and vied for taking the mountain pass.

There, we were able to mount a rescue for a lost battalion of soldiers, thought dead in the midst of the swirling chaos. The Seeker told those desperate, grateful souls that it was only through the prisoner's decision that they were able to clear a way to safety. Esviya took the credit most gracefully; with humility and relief.

We arrived at the Temple, the huge Breach hovering high above our heads. Leliana caught up with us again. This place was hemorrhaging memories of the events that caused the Breach. Cassandra, Varric and I, as well as Esviya, were given a glimpse of what happened in the moments before the explosion, through her eyes.

The massive rift hovering over us was closed, but not sealed properly. I suggested reopening it and then closing it correctly. Otherwise, we risked it splitting opened on its own, and that would no doubt make the larger Breach even more unstable- it might have even killed Esviya.

Esviya opened the rift on my direction, and a huge demon spawned. A demon of Pride...

I was quite worried we would die right there. But she was getting comfortable in battle, and found moments in the fighting when all were distracted, and she could disrupt the rift long enough to weaken the high demon and it's minions.

After the large rift was sealed, poor Esviya collapsed again. This time, it was completely understandable. Varric, Cassandra and I made sure we delivered her safely to the nearby village of Haven, for observation. I, again, watched over the poor girl while she slept, and aided the healer to the best of my knowledge and ability.

I was scared for her. She was an Elven mage, not what the people had expected. She had agreed to bear a huge responsibility to Thedas, on the backs of their accusing, merciless words; agreeing to heal the rifts with the mark she possessed, almost as an act of redemption for something she was not responsible for. While she slept, she became the 'Herald of Andraste', in the eyes of those who were too relieved to explain the situation with reason. I heard some invoke the name of the only Elf mentioned in the Chant of Light. I believe his name was Shartan?

Would she become the next servant of the Faithful's lore? From Scapegoat to Savior... The next living legend who took on all the responsibility that people refused to take for themselves, in order to set things right? That is what 'salvation' seems to look like in some of these tales.

It was good, however, that opinion about her involvement was starting to shift in her favor; and interesting that the Chantry was denying her, and her actions as holy. It had been hard to hear words of persecution directed at her. Especially, when they should have been directed at me. It is something I am quite used to...

If and when she awoke, her faith would be questioned, tested, measured by those who couldn't see what she really was. Of course, it did not matter who she was. It only mattered what she was to others...

She had shown herself to be a protector of the people; emerging from a rift in the Fade, and wielding an unknown magic that closed impossible holes in the Veil, and preventing doom from raining down upon us all. And now that the Breach was stable, so was she. Villagers would pass by her cabin with worry and concern- ask me how she was when they saw me leaving.

All I was able to say to them with any accuracy, was "We will know soon. Let her rest."


	4. What Exactly Do I Herald?

What Exactly do I Herald? (A Crisis of the Spirit)

_As told by Esviya:_

The 'Inquisition?' The 'Herald of Andraste?' What had I walked into? What had I stepped in? It all happened so quickly!

Rest had come, but in a fearful way. I had felt relaxed while I recovered, but there was little means of knowing whether I had died. I'm still not certain why I was able to sleep so comfortably. Some part of me must have known that I was in good hands.

But things quickly spiraled from there. I wanted to keep sleeping. I wanted this to be a dream. But mouths were moving around me, creating all sorts of stories about my past, the mark, my intentions, and the intentions of the new Inquisition. I had a feeling that very few people cared what my thoughts on everything were. I heard their whispers, their rumors about me, as I tried to dream.

By the Dread Wolf!

I knew that I did not believe that I was in any way guided by Divine providence. It was an anomaly of time and bad luck that put me in the position to receive the magic of the rift. It would be an outright lie to believe for their sake. But I knew that if I didn't show some sort of outwardly doubt, if I didn't question the logical view of why this all had happened, that I would wound the hopes of people who needed to _believe _that I was sent by a higher power.

All of that nonsense precluded my own beliefs, my background. I decided that I would hold this anger in, and see if it subsided on its own. But it still meant that I was basically no more than a bandage to heal the rifts.

It seemed the only way to mark myself apart from this insanity is to lead through my actions.

Since our organization is so new, we've been trying to win over support from the people outside of Redcliffe by gathering small favors. Mother Giselle set me on this path, and I am grateful to have her support, and her ear. She seems to be willing to let me lean on her for the time being.

And Varric, Cassandra and Solas accompany me everywhere outside of Haven. Though I mostly listen, they all seem to be getting to know each other quite well. I am glad they are on my side, and even more so for their company...


	5. Not All Mortals are Fools

4\. Not All Mortals are Fools

_As told by Solas:_

They were modest favors: returning a ring to a widow whose husband was struck down because the Templars thought he was a mage... Securing a source of food for the refugees of the war... Gathering herbs for healers to create tonics for the sick and wounded... But these small, considerate acts were slowly helping the land to heal, and gaining the Inquisition favor. Esviya was at the head of all these efforts.

I watched her with quiet admiration. She was too respectful of these desperate strangers, people who could have very well hurt or abused her kindness or lashed out from distrust. From what I could tell, she mostly relied upon her deeds to spread the word and message of the Inquisition. At every opportunity, instead of advertising the organization, she told those grateful souls to go aid others. Her reputation was becoming more and more solid, and she hadn't even had a large success yet.

On top of the favors, she was also seeking to close the rifts that had spawned after the explosion. This lessened the fear of the Breach becoming unstable again. The people, seeing her actively seeking out these rifts, began to feel more at peace. Like life could possibly start returning to it's regular rhythm. They started to donate supplies, resources and manpower to the Inquisition so that our influence could spread, and we could do more good for more people.

We were still associated with the Chantry as a footnote- still a fledgling organization, struggling for an individual identity. The people expected the truth about what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and what happened to the Divine. It was important to Esviya, too, but service came first for her. She wanted to help as many people as she could; return a pathway for the blood of commerce to start flowing, and, most importantly, get people believing they could help her cause to be better than it already was.

I never thought I would be a part of such an effort. Aiding this cause, so far, has helped me attempt to relax. I feel like I am part of something that could potentially do a lot of good...

I found speaking to her at Haven most interesting of all. She was quite delightful to talk to. I have a feeling that she is drawn to me because I am also an elf. It would give me a certain comfort, however, if I knew she trusted me for that reason. But I am most likely wrong. I hope that I am...

I admit, I was a bit hard on her during one of our conversations about the Dalish- I actually attacked her for being proud of her heritage, but I think she handled my judging words in the best way she could. She apologized for any disservice her kind had done to me, to make me shun the People so. It was an unnecessary kindness from her that I was not expecting… If only she had been speaking for more than just herself… But I apologized in return for lashing out at her in impulsivity.

She is inquisitive. I can see it in her eyes- she likes asking me about what I know, especially about the Fade and the Veil. And I enjoy telling her. She does not waste her words with me. She knows that the amount of time we have to recharge in Haven between missions is short, but she seems to seek out my attention quite a bit.

I ask her about my observations of her new hobbies since we settled into Haven: she seems to very much enjoy being a student of both the apothecary and the forge. She has crafted us some beautiful armor, and her health potions have a hidden sweetness to them that I've never tasted in anything medicinal. She enjoys gathering the materials for both by hand, and will sometimes stop during an important mission to pick up a bushel of mushrooms growing on the boulders, or a rock that has caught her eye. She is definitely not all business. It is refreshing, in its way.

Varric and Cassandra are also impressed with Esviya. She seems to have a good rapport with them both, allowing for the mood to lighten during our travels. How she accomplished getting on Cassandra's good side is a mystery to me- but it is nice that it translates to not having to hear Varric and her bicker so much.


	6. Valued Souls

Valued Souls

_As told by Esviya: _

We were starting to make strides. The Inquisition was real, after only a few months. I could tell that I was important to the Inquisition. I was starting to find myself again. I was so grateful to all who had gathered to help, and very happy that I was able to get to know them better.

Cullen was the leader of the Inquisition's small army. A former Commander of the Templars, he had an insight into the mind of the Chantry, the Templar Order, and the conflict they had with the mages. He was a needed voice of caution and skepticism. I valued his opinion highly, even if I didn't always agree with his sometimes overly-conservative evaluations. He was a good person, and I enjoyed talking to him, even though I could sense his slight caution around me. He also wasn't bad on the eyes… at all...

Josephine was the Inquisition's head ambassador. Sweet-tempered, quick thinking, and people-oriented, she managed to get the Inquisition out of many tight situations. Her advice, insight and support guided me to make less rash decisions.

Leliana had a hard job that I did not envy. As our Spymaster, she was in charge of clearing a path for the Inquisition. Guiding spies, bards and assassins, she often suggested the quickest path through our enemies- sabotage. I did not agree with her or her methods very often. But it was a necessary aspect of dismantling our enemies, which I did not think to include. I often felt somewhat uncomfortable around her, but she was a sweet girl, turned dark, by dark times. I wished I could help her find herself.

Cassandra. Oh, Cassandra. She is impossibly strong. Over-bearing sometimes, and slightly aloof, but always meaning well. She is pragmatic, forceful and straightforward. I respect her a great deal. I am slightly worried for her, as she feels a great responsibility for invoking the Writ of the Divine to rebel against the Chantry. She and Leliana, both, are nervous about the path we will take.

Solas… I'm not sure what to make of him yet. He is polite, and witty. He is incredibly knowledgeable, and has every right to be proud of himself for earning his knowledge. I get an odd feeling from him, however. I think he feels as though he is an outcast. A lone wolf, almost? He is so used to being on his own...

He removes himself from our group in the manner by which he reacts to things. He gets confused and defensive very easily, especially if you are not direct or exact. He looks to pick apart your words- not always to criticize, but to study what your mind is thinking, and sometimes to outdo you.

He speaks many of his observations aloud. Sometimes they are invaluable, sometimes redundant- and sometimes they are the kind of things that are meant to be observed silently...

If he disagrees with you, he can be brash, cruel even. I noticed it was only a very narrow focus of topics that agitated him. I don't think he means it, and it is not very often at all that he does it. When it is brought to his attention, he immediately apologizes if handled in a delicate way. But disagreeing with him, quite frankly, is like taking an arrow to the knee. It is painful, and crippling, and almost wish to just be put out of your misery.

He may have been hurt in the past. I will have to be gentle with him.

All of this being said, I know he means well. I enjoy talking to him most of the time. And when he finds a time to smile, it lights up a very sentimental part of my heart. I will have to work with him. I wish him peace of mind, and the willingness to know that he is an accepted and valued member of our group. I would like to get to know him better.

Varric is great fun. He is the voice of reason, but also deftly calls out the **bullshit**. Talking with him softens my outlook on life. I could listen to his amazing voice on an endless loop. Maybe Solas could set me up in the Fade?

Mother Giselle, I know to be soft-spoken, kind and gentle. Wise, compassionate and open-minded, she is a breath of fresh air from the Chantry. Though I do not consider myself one of the Faithful, I have found myself confiding in her often, and seeking out her guidance. Her words to me are always measured, self-assured, and full of knowledge. I am grateful for her, and all the work she is doing for those in Haven.

When I first found out that Chancellor Roderick was staying in Haven, I was surprised and somewhat frustrated. He was my biggest detractor. But I am now starting to see his presence as a valuable thing. He keeps the balance of belief steady in Haven. Though he tends to look like a fool when he speaks because he's not changing any minds- all who have gathered at Haven could have left if they disagreed with my stance or position. I do wish he would keep quiet a bit more, but I am not going to ask him to leave.

The villagers keep trade flowing and spirits high; keep Haven running. I had a new family. A new clan. Everyone had something to offer. It was incredible, and I was humbled by all the support we had, and were gathering. I never could have guessed that I could be this fortunate. I am thankful for them every day that they are with me.

* * *

The reputation of the Inquisition was growing, and my advisors thought it a fairly solid strategy to travel to Val Royeaux to seek aid from the Chantry Mothers there.

Perhaps we could make them see reason? Perhaps my addressing them could persuade them to take the Inquisition back under their wing?

I wasn't hopeful, nor was Cullen.

And it was not to be the case, at any rate.

Upon arriving at the capitol, word was brought to us by one of Nightingale's scouts: The Chantry was openly denouncing the Inquisition, and moreover, denouncing _me. _They were holding a gathering in the main circle, specifically to do so. The Templars were there as well.

Not that it mattered to me. I had never claimed to be anything but Dalish. And I was fairly certain that I could lead this Inquisition without the support of an organization so in shock, and so used to being in power, that they would seek to quell any voices that weren't theirs.

It was pitiful- almost humorous.

But if there was any chance that I was putting the Inquisition in danger with my pride, then I had no right to laugh. I had many good people helping me, and I did not wish to burden them unnecessarily, or nullify all the work they had been doing for me. I would have to let go of my confidence, and address the gathering, in hopes of setting things straight, and possibly turning the tables in our favor. The effort had to be made.

They were holding that gathering as a means to arrest me. They didn't even care to hear that I did not think myself the 'Herald'- they had just decided in their minds that I was the Divine's murderer. I stilled my heart and chose the words that I thought would help those most fearful.

I told the Mother that I had never claimed to be the 'Herald'. And I pleaded for her assistance in providing resources to close the Breach. I knew this was going nowhere… but I now had taken over her audience, and wanted those present to witness my attempt to reach out to the Chantry after everything that had happened. If they were going to take me down, I was going to return the favor.

I could see Solas was uncomfortable here, as both a mage, and possibly as an elf, as well. But I'd catch him giving me small nods of approval out of the corner of my eye. His subtle, thoughtful gestures reassured me, and kept me confident that I would get us out of this.

The Chantry had become so fearful, panicked, and defunct, that even its templars decided to betray them. They had been stationed there to arrest me, but they ended up turning on the Mother, by knocking her out.

I wasn't impressed. I asked them if their display was meant to be for me.

They thought themselves superior to us all. That much was clear. Still, I knew that fearful eyes were watching all of us. I made my offer to them in the same tone that I did to the Chantry Mother.

And they rebuffed, just as expected. I used my most convincing argument, which was still only half-assed, because honestly, I did not wish to work with them.

It was their loss. I would have to deal with them later, surely.

These people were vile and ignorant. This was a headache. I wanted to return to Haven as quickly as possible.

I spoke with the Chantry Mother more privately, after the Templars had shamed her, and abandoned Val Royeaux. I offered her mercy, even though she attempted to slander my name and reputation. I even offered her a second chance to reconsider. But she was too righteous, too stuck in her ways to even see the door that was being offered to her.

It was worth several eye-rolls. But I left feeling better, having at least tried.

* * *

After I returned to Haven, I learned that I had many offers from those who wished to directly aid the Inquisition. It seemed that word of the Inquisition had made its way not just through Ferelden, but also to Orlais. After investigating them all, I welcomed them aboard, gratefully.

I was told to seek out a lone Grey Warden recruiter named Blackwall, who was reported to be wandering the Hinterlands. My advisors were concerned about the disappearance of the Order from Ferelden, and sought him out to get his opinion of what could been happening.

A Qunari mercenary group, The Bulls Chargers, extended an invitation to me to see them fight. Their leader, The Iron Bull wished to join my efforts, head on. He was added quickly. I had a feeling about him. He seemed like he would be good company.

Blackwall and Iron Bull were honorable men, very serious, and hardened by time and experience. They were my rocks, my anchors. I found myself seeking their approval more than anyone else in the Inquisition, and feeling the most upset when they didn't agree with my decisions. Thankfully, that wasn't too often, and wasn't to too severe a degree.

Next, I traveled back to Orlais to meet with two potential agents. A First Enchanter of the Circle at Montsammard, Vivienne. She was formal, graceful, but drooling for power. But I allowed her to join, as I thought she might give me some insight to the Chantry and magic users.

Sera, an elven rogue, and one of the founding leaders of the Red Jenny thief network. She was a bit crude, but she very much wanted to help, and could offer additional spies. So I welcomed her as well.

Vivienne and Sera were two sides of the same coin. Vivienne represented power, affluence, and stability, while Sera represented the less fortunate, those riddled by a chaotic existence- those scrambling to make a life that was worth living. I wondered if maybe recruiting them both would send a message, but that was not my first instinct.

Before leaving Val Royeaux, I was approached by a Grand Enchanter, Fiona, who offered the help of the rebel mages. She asked us to consider meeting her in Redcliffe to discuss the details. Having the mages assistance directly… that would be ideal. Something seemed slightly off about the invitation, however, and I remained wary.


End file.
